


The World’s Saddest Sleepover

by catch_yerself_on



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e17 Passion, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, Missing Scene, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, Period Typical Attitudes, Suicidal Thoughts, Summer of Giles 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25640926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catch_yerself_on/pseuds/catch_yerself_on
Summary: Giles didn’t want Buffy to rescue him from his roaring rampage of revenge against Angelus. It takes a punch to the face for him to remember his Slayer and her friends are still kids and they need him. Can he grieve for Jenny in front of them and express how much *he* needs *them*?(Yes, but in typically Gilesian fashion: “so many words”, startling bursts of intense feelings no one is comfortable reacting to, tea and biscuits at his flat.)
Relationships: Cordelia Chase/Xander Harris, Jenny Calendar/Rupert Giles, Rupert Giles & Buffy Summers, Rupert Giles & Scoobies (BtVS), Rupert Giles & Willow Rosenberg, Rupert Giles & Xander Harris, Rupert Giles & Xander Harris & Willow Rosenberg & Buffy Summers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26
Collections: Summer of Giles





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTES: Oh God, this is a fanfic from a long-time lurker, not-first-time-writer, but first-time-submitter. Missing scene in “Passion” after Buffy stops Giles from getting himself killed. Trigger Warning for Giles’ suicidal thoughts. Because I love to REALLY wrap things up (like was Giles ever considered a murder suspect?), I love characters to have an actual conversation about stuff we didn’t get to see or get answers to (like Jenny’s background; sorry it’s all-tell-and-no-show, I didn’t want to “leave the room” for this and not get everyone’s reactions), I hate waste (so many discarded, valuable weapons!), and I can’t bear the idea of Giles being alone that night and I don’t believe the kids would either. Even Cordelia.
> 
> I don’t own these characters (I’d make them talk to each other more if I did), anything you recognize is from “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”, Season 2, Episode 17, “Passion” by Ty King. Italics in parentheses indicate thoughts. I have the characters refer to Angelus as Angel like they do in season 2, because they didn’t start talking about his unsouled persona as Angelus until he got his own spinoff. Also I have the teen characters use the word “Gypsy” because it was 1997-1998 and they didn’t know it was offensive. I have Giles use “Romani” because I assume if they had a chance to really talk Jenny would’ve told him her preferred nomenclature. So, as far as I’m concerned they had lunch while she was working on her “special project”, nothing to contradict that in canon! 

Giles woke to unbearable heat and choking smoke. Buffy was slapping his face, yanking his arms, yelling his name. He staggered to his feet and out of the burning factory only because she held him up. The moment they cleared the inferno he broke from her grip and shoved her away. He snarled at her in a harrowing voice, " _Why did you come here?! This wasn't your fight!_ "

Her small fist connected with his jaw like a rock; he experienced a brief flashback to the last time she’d done that before the explosion of pain and blackness overwhelmed him. His glasses skittered across the pavement, and Giles was crashing to the ground, spinning out of the shock and fury that had kept him moving for the last few hours.

She screamed at him in terror and rage, “ _Are you trying to get yourself killed?!_ "

He couldn't answer that. She was right, of course; his own death would have been worth it to see That Monster in a cloud of dust. Giles, hunched on his tweed-protected knees and elbows, tried to cough the smoke from his lungs, but the coughing turned into dry sobs razoring through his torso and throat.

At the sight of his shaking body, Buffy burst into tears. It was frightening to see him so vulnerable, almost as frightening as the possibility of losing him. She sank to her knees and pulled his head onto her shoulder, clutching him in her arms.

" _You can't leave me. I can't do this alone._ "

She sounded so young, so loving, he hated himself. He hadn't cried when he'd found Jenny, hadn't cried when he heard Willow's agonized whimpering over the phone, hadn't cried when the police suggested he'd murdered the woman he loved. Perhaps the final blow to his gating mechanism against feeling the pain was guilt: realizing he'd been so scared of his grief, so desperate for catharsis through vengeance, he'd nearly abandoned his Slayer. Giles didn't have the strength to return Buffy's embrace, so for once he granted himself the complete surrender of being held and comforted.

Eventually, Buffy understood her tears and Giles' heaves were at least partially caused by the spreading fire. She rubbed his back vigorously.

"Giles," she hissed. "We have to go, someone might've called the firetrucks and we can't be seen here."

He stilled and extricated himself from her arms, rising shakily. He darted forward when Buffy ducked into the glowing doorway of the factory. She was back in seconds hauling the bag of weapons he’d stashed by the entrance. She shrugged off his horrified gape.

“We need all the firepower we can get,” she said between coughs.

She recovered his (surprisingly undamaged) glasses and followed Giles' stumbling form to his Citroën. He fished for the keys in his pocket but she placed her steadier hands over his.

"You really shouldn't drive. Your glasses are all sooty, and your clothes aren't any better, you can't even clean the lenses."

He neither smiled at her mild joke nor did he send her a glare of "you'd bloody well better not damage my car", just reluctantly traded the keys for his glasses and heaved his battered body into the passenger seat. As she drove from the wreckage he closed his eyes and leaned his temple against the cool glass.

"Giles," she started carefully. "I need to know now if I have to take you to the hospital. If you lie to me and I find out you have another concussion or something broken, I'll tie you to your couch until I can trust you to take care of yourself."

He couldn't react with indignation, his reservoir of passion was exhausted. ( _You think you deserve to be treated like a man after what you did? You're the only adult fighting this war with child soldiers, yet you tried to desert. You'll spend the rest of your miserable, lonely life atoning for this, you selfish bastard._ )

"I mean it. If you really weren't intending a kamikaze mission you woulda been patient, blown up the factory, and never risked getting close enough to bash his face in."

Giles’ silence implied he agreed. He felt around his neck and torso.

"Nothing serious," he rasped. "I promise I will tell you if I'm injured. I just need a drink and a night in bed-"

The memory of the last time he saw his bed hit him so hard he clapped his hand across his mouth to quell a cry of anguish. Buffy shot him an expression of intense sympathy.

"Good," she said shakily. "We're in this together and I need everyone to look after themselves until we're ready to take on Angel. Until we have the _right_ moment and the _right_ plan, we'll shove all that rage in a box and carry it with us to kill him and every vamp that gets in our way."

He nodded sharply. For the rest of the drive he kept his eyes closed while he practiced mindful breathing. Pulling up to Giles' flat, Buffy quashed a moan of frustration when she noticed Cordelia's car still there. She was impressed the girl had cared enough to stick around to see if Giles survived (unless Xander cajoled her into it) but Buffy knew that the man could only take so much Cordy right now, however good her intentions. Giles, too, spotted the car and stiffened.

"The only reason I got to the factory in time is 'cuz Cordy drove me," she said apologetically. "I made her drop me off instead of sticking around, 'cuz I told her either you or I were gonna be driving your car home tonight, and _both_ of us would be in it."

"And," he muttered, "I suppose if you'd let Xander drive you instead, there’d be nothing you could do to stop him from 'helping' short of knocking him out too."

"I'll never be sorry for either of those times," she replied bluntly."Someday, you won't be sorry either."

Giles would have to think about that later. He plodded up and down the stairs to the flat, pulling up short when he saw the yellow crime scene tape across the door.

"Giles, if you want to me to take you to a hotel I'll call the guys, tell them you're OK and they can go home now. They'll understand-"

"It's alright.” ( _If they don't see me in person they'll think I’m going to drink myself to death or something equally morbid, which doesn’t sound so terrible right now._ ) He ripped the tape and twisted the knob.


	2. Chapter 2

Willow, Xander, and Cordelia jumped away from the threshold, running the worst scenarios through their minds. The heavy door opened slowly and they exhaled in relief when they saw both Buffy and Giles, looking like they'd fled Hell. Xander and Cordelia didn't move, unsure of what Giles would accept from them right now, but Willow sprinted to him. She caught Buffy’s frantic expression of ‘CONTENTS ARE FRAGILE!’ in time to ease the death-grip hug she craved.

“Giles, please don’t ever scare us like that again,” she begged tearfully. He was stunned at first but murmured his vows and apologies as he nestled her head against his chest. She inhaled acrid smoke replacing his usual scent of old paper, black tea, and peppermint aftershave, and hated Angelus more than she’d ever hated anything in her life.

Xander and Cordelia came forward cautiously. Xander, wishing he had the telepathic skills Willow appeared to possess, raised his eyebrows and mouthed the words, “Is that son of a bitch dusted?” It took a beat but Buffy caught on. The Slayer shook her head with a grimace. Xander closed his eyes to restrain his anger at this news and spoke haltingly, “I-I’m so sorry Giles.”

“So am I,” said Cordelia softly. “Ms Calendar was my favourite teacher, and outside of basic typing I’m terrible at Comp. Sci., so that’s, like, a great testament to her I think.”

Giles lifted his face but not high enough to make eye contact with anyone.

“Thank you,” he croaked. “It…erm…it means a great deal to me to know you’re all…here…for… You don’t have to be. I’m sorry you had to see…all this…that you were in peril because of my stupidity. You should go home and get some rest.”

His arms slackened around Willow and she backed off reluctantly. Giles moved to the kitchenette like an automaton while Xander and Willow made frantic exclamations of disbelief. Buffy gestured for them to shut up and followed Giles behind the counter.

Giles filled two glasses of water, handing one to Buffy. She gulped it down eagerly while he splashed his face, then they switched places at the sink. He emerged from the entryway, surprised to see the other three teenagers still there. Then he recognized why his flat seemed so normal, he hadn't even noticed.

“Oh, my God…” he whispered. There was no trace of the grotesque nightmare he’d dreaded returning to the entire ride home. Every candle was extinguished, hidden, and the wax scraped off surfaces. Every rose petal they could find was gone and their heady perfume expunged with lemon-scented cleaning spray. The record player was back on his shelves and _La Bohéme_ was, hopefully, smashed into a thousand shards. He walked closer to the stairs, lifted his gaze to the loft, and saw they’d even stripped and made his bed. The covers for the duvet and pillowcases had been confiscated by the police ( _The last things of mine her body touched, and now they're just evidence for forensics..._ ), but he suspected the original sheets were in a bag like the shattered glass and the paper towels used to mop up the wine.

And the charcoal sketch Angelus had made of Jenny's corpse ( _my God, the **time** he put into that after he'd already arranged the scene, risking me coming home and catching him..._), they must have seen that too. Giles had discovered it on his bedside table before he’d phoned the police and hastily covered it with books. He knew it would only generate more questions he couldn’t respond to, questions about an unknown serial killer he could identify in a hundred ways except for the most salient facts, not without sounding insane. The children must have thrown the drawing out too, or more likely burned it. Now the staging of the murder only existed in memories and crime scene photos.

Giles removed his ash-streaked glasses and allowed them to see his green eyes clearly. They flinched at what they beheld. He was so intensely, insistently private, and forcing themselves by necessity into his personal life felt like seeing him naked. He stuttered out his gratitude before Xander rescue him.

“You don’t have to say it. And forget about sending us home, we’re staying with our friend.”

Giles dropped his head and spun on his heel, back into the kitchenette and far away from them.

“Then…would anyone like some tea?” he called in as steady a voice as he could manage. “Decaffeinated, of course. And-and I have biscuits…”

Buffy slipped behind him and covered the hands holding the rattling teacups and saucers.

“Giles, please sit down,” she said gently. “You taught me how to do this often enough. I think I can handle it.” She tried to pry him away from his task until she caught his face, his eyelids and mouth sealed shut, hot tears and runny nose, overwhelmed by this demonstration of their love.

“It’s OK,” she whispered. “I know what it’s like to think you need to keep this stuff to yourself. But please let them see even a little bit of what I’ve seen tonight. I get that you feel like you need to be all _Brief Encounter_ , especially right now, but you really don’t, and it’s not just ‘cuz they know about your past and about what you tried to do tonight. They’re grieving too, and if you keep hiding from them you’re letting them think it’s not alright for them to cry if you won’t. I promise they won’t tease you, I promise they won’t be afraid, and I promise you’ll feel so much better if you drop the stiff upper lip and treat them like friends instead of kids you need to protect. Haven't they proven they deserve that?”

It necessitated many deep inhalations for him to open his eyes and relinquish the cutlery. He tried to pull off his jacket and tie but because of his bruises, he required her help. She handed him an ice pack for his jaw. He gave her a shy smile and left the safety of the kitchenette, but he blew his nose and wiped his face with his handkerchief first.

The other three had settled on his furniture, Willow huddled on the couch, Cordelia leaning back on the recliner, and Xander hunched forward on the coffee table. Giles sat gingerly on the couch and sipped his water.

"I...um…" He drew a deep breath. "You’re entitled to know what happened tonight."

"You don't have to," Willow interrupted softly. "We...figured out the, uh, sequence of events."

“You know Act 2,” Giles smiled bitterly. “You don't know Acts 1 and 3. It's...important to talk about these things, yes? Not to bottle them up…"

"Exactly, that's what leads to you going postal-" Willow and Xander’s heads whipped in Cordelia's direction and she shut her mouth.

Luckily, Giles barely registered her voice. He kept his gaze fixed on his fireplace and his voice came from miles away.

"Jenny…" He allowed himself to say her name for the first time since the police station. "...and I had started talking again. I believe I have Buffy to thank for that. We had lunch together. She, ah, tried to explain how difficult everything had been for her, how she had family obligations before she ever met us. This ‘mission’ was actually her escape plan. Her clan immigrated from Romania and lived as nomads all over the States. She was homeschooled until she was 11 years old. When her parents were killed by vampires, Social Services intervened. They observed her advanced education consisted mostly of bartering, witchcraft, and the dangers of the Gadjo, or outsiders’, world. Not all Romani are like that, but her extended family was understandably - if excessively - paranoid about controlling their children after all the threats her people have faced over the centuries.

Her uncle Enyos, the chap who...was murdered in her flat, became her legal guardian. He was forced to settle down and enrol her in public school or else she'd be taken into care. On reflection, she would have preferred that fate. Her kinfolk begrudgingly permitted her to attend university but someone was always dropping by unannounced, following her, judging her. She rebelled whenever she could, of course. A year ago she was offered a bid for freedom: the vampire with a soul was trying to integrate into society, on the Hellmouth no less, and they needed a Kalderash who had assimilated to keep an eye on him in Sunnydale. If she did this one task for them they’d only check in occasionally. They never told her how the curse could be lifted, only that they demanded Angel suffer - at least mildly - forever. Even her family didn't know what might constitute a moment of true happiness for him. The curse had never been specific and the original spell was indecipherable now, possibly a consequence of surviving as a deracinated people. She figured it was a security measure so she'd never accidentally reveal it. But it left her exposed and dependent on them for whatever drips of information they deemed she’d earned.

She made regular reports about him but never invaded our privacy, she merely...hung around. It didn’t seem like such a betrayal if she simply listened carefully whenever Angel came up in conversation or asked him a few questions. When we first found out who she was...I doubted her, I thought she'd only been involved with me so she could get closer to Angel. The fact that she left me after she discovered MY past... I believed she’d only taken me back because her uncle demanded it. But I know now she could have been just a colleague, and helped us with our work regardless, pretending it was because of her connections to the occult. But she...she said it was real. She said she didn't know she was going to fall in…"

His face crumpled. Willow edged closer, ready to provide solace again, but Giles pulled himself together.

"I'd told Jenny I could forgive her, but it wasn't me she needed to make it up to."

There was the clattering of something dropping in the sink and a moment of painful silence. Giles swallowed and continued.

"This afternoon she told me she was working on that, and she had some sort of 'special project' on the computer she needed to finish, but she didn't want to say anything specific in case it didn't work out. I told her to come round my flat tonight and talk to me. After school, I did some grocery shopping. I was going to cook for her. You see the, um, the police wanted to know where I was, why I didn't go straight home. I told them I went to Buffy's house to pick up a recipe book I’d lent her. And when I got home Jenny was...already there. There was a rose through the door handle...I called out to her..."

He gasped raggedly, choking on his words.

"She was in my bed. She was so beautiful but she was so still and then I saw her head at an _angle_ …"

Buffy saved him with another timely entrance. Xander switched to the armchair so Buffy, her eyes bloodshot, could set the tea tray on the table and rest her head on Willow’s shoulder. Giles drained his tea before resuming in a flat voice.

"I called the police. I had to tell them I didn't know what had happened. I knew how bad this looked for me, but what else could I do? I called Buffy and then I had to go to the station for questioning. They held me in an interrogation room. I asked to ring my solicitor, my-my lawyer. I have one back in England, someone who works for the Council, but it was so early there I had to leave a message. At first, I had to tell the police it must have been one of Sunnydale's many notoriously elusive gangs who did this, but of course, the... _personal_ …nature of this crime made it unlikely Jenny or I were a total stranger to her killer. They wanted to know if we'd ever had a falling out. Telling a story that's close to the truth is always more reliable than a flat-out lie. I told them we had broken up for a month. Her family disapproved of our relationship because I was an outsider, but we were getting back together. Then one particularly odious detective accused _me_ of being the murderer."

"Son of a _bitch_!” Xander rose abruptly. “They think you put together this house of gothic horror _yourself_ to throw them off the scent!?"

"Right?!" interjected Cordelia. "We know you're more of a badass than you let on, Giles, but didn't they take one glance at how old fashioned and bookish and tweedy you are and say, 'he doesn't have it in him'?".

“That's what makes them detectives, guys,” said Buffy, her eyes haunted. “They're supposed to search below the surface and suspect everyone. I assume you did what I did when I was arrested for 'killing' Ted and covered your weapons chest before the cops arrived?”

Giles nodded tightly. "This detective suggested that maybe we had started a...romantic evening here, but then we had another row, I got angry with her and-and-and _pushed_ her, either down the stairs or into some furniture. He tried to play 'Good Cop' and bloody well _commiserated_ with me, saying it was an accident or even a crime of passion, and I would receive a more lenient punishment if I confessed now."

Xander stalked away from the couch. He retrieved Giles' Scotch from the liquor cabinet and thrust a generous glassful into Giles’ trembling hand. Willow frowned at Xander and he glared back defiantly. Giles was taken aback at first but looked gratefully at Xander before taking a swig, shuddering at the burning sensation.

"But", cried Willow desperately, " _Why_ do they think you’d kill her? All couples have fights, and unlike Buffy, you don't have a history in Sunnydale of-of anger issues!"

"Did they have a record of the 'official' version of what happened to Randall?" said Buffy softly.

"No, the, ah, Council has a way of making these things disappear. Despite all the illegalities I committed in my youth, my actual criminal record is clean; makes it easier for Watchers to travel and evade awkward situations without being arrested. Most of the time."

Giles drank his Scotch, unable to look at them.

"This detective presented me his theory,” his voice took on a dangerous edge. “One of the classic reasons why men kill the women they supposedly love: let’s say a month ago Jenny told me she was pregnant, and I refused to take responsibility. She kept nagging me about it, or she had a miscarriage and I didn't care. Or she had an abortion and wanted me to compensate her or she would tell people what kind of cad I was. So because I'm supposedly so ‘English and repressed’, I finally lost my temper and shut her up forever so I wouldn't have to deal with a scandal."

Willow burst into a fresh round of tears while Buffy soothed her.

"The only reason I didn't thrash him on the spot was that I knew I'd never get out of the station tonight if I didn't keep calm. I told him that scenario was impossible, as I'm sure the autopsy will prove she couldn't be carrying my child, nor had she been pregnant recently."

None of the kids could look at him. All the jokes they'd made about being disgusted or intrigued about how 'far' Giles had or hadn't gone with Ms Calendar haunted them. This was supposed to be the night he'd tell her he loved her, the night he'd forgive her, the night they...

“This detective kept up his act of sympathizing with me…and I, ah, continued with my flexible version of the truth. I told him we quarrelled because she had lied about her identity. That she came from a deeply conservative Romani family and had left them behind, but instead of starting a new life with her own name and background, she made...omissions.” Giles’ tone turned wistful. “She literally looked around and picked the name ‘Jenny Calendar’ because she thought it was amusing, she liked the one on the wall at the courthouse when she legally changed her name. She’d gone by Jenny since she was a teenager when her classmates misread ‘Janna’ as ‘Jenna’. Even her teaching credentials were genuine. I told him I'd found out when her uncle tracked her down. Jenny had called the police when he was murdered by one of the aforementioned mysterious drug-addled gangs and admitted the same tale as I was telling them about her past. I said she and I fought because I didn't know what was real about her and our relationship. I had tried to move past it when she explained how oppressive her childhood was, and why she changed everything about herself. I told them I wasn't angry with her anymore. I'd fallen in love with Jenny Calendar, not Janna Kalderash, but I wanted a future with her, regardless of her name. 

Then an officer arrived to tell the detectives the police had investigated the school because the fire alarm went off. They found her purse in the lab, one of the computers in flames, blood on the door, the custodian's supplies scattered and signs of a chase in the hallways. I knew then what had happened. She stayed late, thinking she was safe, that no one but I knew she was there. But somehow Angel knew, or maybe he was looking for me in the library or Buffy in training. He ambushed Jenny, she put up a fight, he ran her down, and _he broke her neck_." Giles' voice cracked and he took a long drink.

"Now the story for the police had changed, and whoever the killer was had done it with forethought...someone very strong and accustomed to murder. Now they suspect, as I hoped they would, that one of the more unsavoury members of her family had caught up with her and punished her for her betrayal. The lead detective interpreted the act of breaking her computer as a symbol of the modernity and independence she wanted. And her killers left her for me to find in order to punish me for ‘dishonouring’ her."

Giles swiped his face.

“Her family aren't _evil_ , they sound horrid but I don't want her granny in jail as an accessory to murder. I doubt the police will ever locate the area the Kalderash clan frequents. I don't even know."

Buffy nodded shortly. "You did what you had to do. None of the Gypsies showed up after her uncle was killed. I think they're just leaving Angel as our problem because they know I'm responsible."

"Stop it," said Giles harshly. "I won't have you blaming yourself. I'm really not up to fighting you on this." Abashed, she reached for his hand and gave it a clasp of gratitude, even if she wasn’t convinced.

Giles' eyes were hooded and his jaw was tight. "The police let me go but said I shouldn't leave Sunnydale any time soon. You know what I did next and why. When I got to the factory the door was unlocked and I could hear Angel, Spike, and Drusilla inside. I threw a Molotov cocktail at the centre table. I shot Angel in the shoulder with a crossbow bolt and pinned him to a pillar. I didn't want him to die straight away, I just wanted him to know who had come for him. I lit a baseball bat with the fire I’d ignited and I struck him, again and again. But I wasn't thinking clearly, I allowed my desire for revenge to overcome my desire to stop him from hurting anyone else. I left myself unguarded, he choked me out, and the next thing I knew Buffy was getting me to safety from the fire. And because of my recklessness, we no longer know where Angel is hiding."

The story over, Giles let his head drop against the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

Xander interjected vehemently, "Giles, I'm pretty sure most of us would have done the same thing in your place, and no one other than Buffy woulda lasted that long. I, for one, _am in no way_ pissed off at you.” He offered a weak smile. “Plus, I woulda paid to see that, it sounded awesome if it weren't for the, uh, terrible circumstances."

Giles touched his jaw with the forgotten melting ice pack. "It was not 'awesome',” he said with quiet intensity. “Buffy gave me...a very good telling off, and rightfully so. I did something reprehensible tonight. I thought more about my own feelings than your safety. I don't think it's egotistical for me to say I'm needed here, and I can't help Buffy kill Angel by going off half-cocked and getting _myself_ killed. Worse, I could’ve been sired. It would be Angel’s exact _modus operandi_. He knows as well as I what a danger I could be if he used my knowledge of the group, my Watcher’s training, and the psychological effect of me coming after you. The only reason he might not do it would be he won’t tolerate competition and he knows I would take great delight in inflicting every torment possible on him once I got the chance. But the thrill of turning me into every Watcher’s greatest fear, becoming a threat to his own Slayer? That would probably override any common sense he has left.”

The four teenagers looked at each other in dread. None of them had considered this. If the glimpses they’d seen of Giles’ dark side were any indication, a very pissed off, very intelligent vampire Giles might be the worst enemy they’d ever faced. He’d know Buffy’s every move and finally, have the strength to match her. He’d know every weak point of her and her friends and wouldn’t waste time with flower deliveries and dead pets, more like deliveries of dead parents. He’d serve as an ally for Angel, dispatch him when Angel outlived his usefulness, and probably be running what was left of Sunnydale within months. And _if_ Buffy defeated him, driving a stake through the heart of a demon with Giles’ face and voice would destroy her.

Giles sat up straight and met their tear-filled gazes.

"I promise I will never do anything like that again. Not only because it is my duty to fight the forces of darkness...but because I care about you so much I will endure _anything_ to protect you, all of you."

Xander couldn't speak, he just squeezed Giles' shoulder. Willow hugged him from the side and Giles, flushed, relaxed into her touch.

Buffy cleared her throat. "Giles, if it makes you feel any better I forgive you. And we're gonna help you get through this, but you have to _let_ us, OK? Now, will you _please_ eat a cookie?"

He smiled wanly and nibbled a ginger snap.

"Giles," said Willow, muffled in his side. "I don't feel like going home in the dark tonight."

His voice rumbled in her ear. "Of course, I'm sure Cordelia won’t object-"

"That's not what I meant. I'd like to stay here with you tonight."

Giles froze. "That's um, that's very sweet, Willow but I can manage, I'll do the spell and then-"

"Taken care of before you got home, Big Guy," grinned Xander.

"And thank you for volunteering MY services," cut in Cordelia. "I'm sure as hell not driving home this late with Angel all cranky and homeless!"

"Giles, we're all staying," said Buffy. "It's Friday night, it's not like we'll have to go to school tomorrow in the same clothes. You shouldn't be alone tonight. Or wake up alone tomorrow. There's gonna be a lot of hard, grown-up stuff to do then. We'd like one night of feeling safe and like a kid again, and have the World's Saddest Sleepover with you."

Giles couldn't help it, snorting slightly with fond amusement.

"Alright, you can stay. I believe I have enough pillows and blankets for everyone. As for sleeping arrangements…" The smile was stolen from his face.

"We'll all stay down here," said Buffy quickly. "Giles, you'll take the couch, NO fighting me on this. You got knocked out again and then I punched you-“

“You punched him again?!” squeaked Willow. Buffy waved a ‘not now’ gesture.

“You'll thank me in the morning when you're less ache-y. Cordy can take the recliner, I know sleeping on anything less than cushiony is bad for your skin. Xander, can you go upstairs and get Giles' pyjamas and bedding?"

Xander blanched but pushed himself toward the stairs. In the loft, he flicked on the bedside lamp and shivered at the eeriness of the room. He saw the perfectly snug bed Willow and Cordelia had made up, a bed he knew no one would ever long to sleep in again. He found some pyjamas and three undershirts in the armoire, grabbed the pillows and comforter, and narrowly saved himself from tripping downstairs. The girls had cleared the table and tipped it on its side to make room for a sleeping area. Giles accepted the pyjamas from him and locked himself in the bathroom to shower. The girls rinsed the dishes while Xander fetched more bedding from the linen closet. When Giles emerged from the bathroom with wet hair and red eyes, Xander handed the t-shirts to the girls.

"I swear this isn't to see you in your underwear, I thought you might like something more comfy to sleep in. D’you mind, Giles?" Giles shook his head distantly. He’d nearly lost it again when he saw the kids had made up the couch for him. ( _Seriously, are you going to do this **every** time they show you some kindness_?) He wrapped himself in the softness of the comforter.

Buffy, Willow, and Cordelia traded turns changing in the bathroom. Giles' undershirts were just large enough to cover Buffy and Willow's thighs, but not so much the taller Cordelia (not that Xander was complaining). Normally happy to flaunt her legs, Cordy felt embarrassed around Giles now. She swiftly covered herself with the blanket and reclined the chair as far is it could go. Buffy lay on the carpet by the couch with Xander on the other side and Willow snuggled between them. Cordy could put up with Xander’s closeness to the other girls for tonight. When the lights were out Giles broke the quiet with his hushed voice.

"Thank you, all. I shall never forget this."

"You're welcome," replied Cordelia sleepily.

Thanks to the combination of the chamomile tea, whiskey, and pain killers, Giles drifted off rather quickly. Once his congested snoring resounded, Cordelia, then Willow, then Xander followed him. Buffy was still awake when she heard Giles, in a dream, sighing Jenny's name in such a heartbroken voice Buffy reached up to caress his hand. He startled awake and stifled his sobs so he wouldn't disturb the children. Buffy wriggled under his comforter and stretched out next to him, shushing his noise of protest. She threw her arm across him, letting him weep until he calmed down and fell back asleep. When she shifted to slide back onto the carpet so when everyone woke they wouldn't see what had happened, the moonlight caught the wet sheen of Xander and Willow's open eyes. She smiled sheepishly at them. ( _Screw it, looks like tomorrow Giles will have to deal with us seeing him as a human being again_ ). Buffy enfolded her Watcher in her arms and slept.

THE END


End file.
